The capture of Ttrank was even easier than Gulaan. Even Ajaxx was surprised at how quickly and without thought the dejected and disgruntled Dragon Masters joined the Brigade.

Del Grakken planted the seeds of discontent, and Void allow them to grow. Now I reap the harvest. Ajaxx thought smugly as he watched the Dragon Masters take the Dragonsbane Oath.

When the ceremonies had ended, Ajaxx called another council with his officers.

“I know we be tired, I know the men be tired, but we must press on.” Ajaxx said, his beetle eyes flashing, “Ttrank be just a stepping stone. The Brigade must reach Madadelillon by nightfall.”

The officers barely contained a collective sigh. One did speak up.

“Sir,” said Captain Cranik, “I be meaning no disrespect, but the troops be tired. The fight be easy, but the trek getting’ the was rough. I suggest we rest for a day.”

Other officers murmured their agreement. Ajaxx stared at his men keenly. He was not angry. He trusted his officers as much as they trusted him. They were not his officers for nothing. They were smart men - not wise - but smart. What they offered as advise or opinions was often helpful.

“Very well.” he said suddenly, “The Brigade will stay the night.”

A mile away, a shadow drifted over rock and sand, through trees and scrub-brush. Morgue approached.

A mile away, a shadow drifted over rock and sand, through trees and scrub-brush. Morgue approached.

Grid: F-10Location: Ttrank

“One your divisions are settled, return here.” continued Ajaxx, “There be other matters we must council.”

There was a chorus of “Yessirs.” and the officers left. Only Japheth remained alone with Ajaxx. Japheth cracked a smile.

“We be winning, Ajaxx, we be winning.”

Ajaxx nodded slowly, pouring himself some beer.

“Don’t be counting ye dragons before they be hatched.” he cautioned after a sip, “Void be no fool. I be awaiting his next move.”

------------------------

The black outline of Morgue barely contrasted with the shadowy foliage surrounding Ttrank. Black eyes absorbed all. Morgue shifted slightly, moving to his right. Soft moccasins barely pressed the dry earth: there would be no prints to track come dawn. For an hour, Morgue watched. He watched the blustery Dragon Master officers order troops about, watched the troops settle down and go to sleep. Guards were posted. One made a round every seven minutes. Morgue’s eyes slid to a tent. It was brightly lit, and the officers were clustering about it, slipping in through a flap. Unblinking eyes watched until all the officers had squeezed inside. Five. He could see two more heads silhouetted: that made seven total. And one of them was Dragonsbane.

Then talking began. It was too muffled for Morgue to hear. Morgue stood still. Then he reached inside his cloak. His hand came out clutching a rod. No, not a rod, a tube. A blowgun. From a wrap of cloth was taken a dart, nothing more than a sliver of wood, a splinter actually, lest than an inch long. It had already been dipped in it’s payload, a deadly brew of cobra venom, made deadlier with careful manipulation. The victim, shot in the chest or head, would die within seconds. Shot in the limbs: a minute. Morgue moved forward.

--------------------------------

“The attack on Madadelillon be difficult. It be a strong city, fortified and barricaded. But it has a flaw.” said Ajaxx. Before him lay some images of Madadelillon. Among them was a crude blueprint of the outer walls.

“It be built by Royals.” continued Ajaxx.

The other Dragons Masters at the table chuckled. Historically, Dragon Masters always thought little of Royals, thinking them nothing more than puppets of the LEGOland Empire. Royals were often the butt of Dragon Master jokes.

“There be many grilles,” said Ajaxx, tapping the blueprint in several places, “Imbedded in the outer walls. That be their weakness.”